As Supergirl healed herself, regenerating her powers high above the earth, far below her things were coming to a head…
“’Pear Tree’ this is ‘Watchdog 4’, ‘Penny’ and ‘Raj’ are confirmed on the bridge with one hostile, we have eyes on, but only a partial shot through the storm shutters, over.”
“Copy ‘’4’, standby.” Partridge answered. He looked at Captain Hudson. “The mike should be live, sir”.
Hudson moved to where a dedicated speaker linked up to the mike hidden on the Mayor’s wife, manned by a technical rating, Edwards. “Bring it up, son.”
The rating duly flipped a switch and the voices of Reynolds, Eddy and Wheeler filled the small office.
“-on’t care. Just sit tight folks. Doc’ll see you in a bit.” Wheeler was saying.
“Fine son, we ain’t going anywhere” Reynolds replied. The small camera in his jacket button gave a poor quality, grainy image on a small monitor besides the speaker. It showed a slightly fish-eyed view of Wheeler leaning back casually against the wall of the bridge house, the internal steps leading down to the deck below just behind him to the right. The Mayor had remembered his instructions and slowly traversed the interior, giving Hudson and his team a view of what to expect.
The ensign beside Partridge , Clarke, was giving a low voiced description of the room to the Trident team members who would shortly be assaulting it. Unbeknown to Wheeler, he was now referred to as Target Beta. Willoughby was Alpha.
“So that case got $20 million in it, huh?” Wheeler asked, kicking the large airport travel case mounted on wheels with an extended handle.
“That’s right. In large denominations, just like she wanted. I gotta ask you son, you seem like a fairly smart guy, why you want to go out like this? You must see there isn’t a way out of this for you?” the Mayor asked him. “Well, except the obvious.” It wasn’t picked up by the camera he wore, but he drew a line across his own neck with his finger.
Wheeler snorted “Huh. Docs got a plan. She’s smart. We got a way out.”
“Really? She told you how, ‘cos I’d love to hear it? There must be about 500 guys around this ship. Army, coastguard, Navy, cops, CIA, SWAT, you name it, they’re all out there queuing up to take a pop at you.” Reynolds said.
“Why tell you? We’re good, that’s all you need to know.” Wheeler said confidently, though truthfully the Doctor hadn’t told him.
“Well, I’m surprised. Our psych boys had her pegged as ‘a-punching- out- with- a- bang’ kinda type. I mean, who the hell wants LARGE denominations? You want small so you can pass ‘em on easy, not the big stuff. We thought she only asked for large to stall for time for some reason, wrong foot us. Figured we’d surprise her by coughing it up quick. Still, you’ve met her, you know her better than those guys who have just studied her psych profile for a coupla days…” Reynolds let himself trail off, leaving time for the words to sink in and the reverse psychology to have its effect. Wheeler started to look slightly uneasy.
“Don’t see any red dots on my chest. If they’re so hot on taking me out how come they ain’t lit me up?” He smiled. But he still looked unsettled. He glanced at the slit holes in the storm shutters on the windows. He turned to Eddy, changing the subject. “You his wife ,huh?” she nodded. “Bet you didn’t know he’d been fucking his secretary for years, right Mayor? ‘Course you have, they always are.” He smiled maliciously as he saw Reynolds raised eyebrows. But what Wheeler took as surprise, was actually concealing amusement.
“I’ve had my suspicions…” Eddy answered her eyes twinkling at her husband.
“The reason they ain’t ‘lit you up’ is that’s more for Hollywood and TV. They got laser sights for the close up wet work, but the pros, the long distance guys? They don’t need a red light to tell them they’re gonna hit you. You know the best sniper in the world? Some Brit guy in Afghanistan. Took out a machine gunner holding up a convoy from 2 and a half clicks. That’s like a mile and a half or something. Bullet’s in the air three seconds. You know what? They gotta allow for windspeed at target, windspeed in between, deceleration from the air over that distance and get this. THE CURVATURE OF THE FUCKING EARTH! Awesome, huh? Huh? Am I right? The curvature of the fucking EARTH, ‘cos the bullet is 3 seconds in the air with gravity acting on it. UN-BELIEVABLE!”
“A fucking fluke” said Wheeler confidently.
“Well you could say that, but then he took out the loader that tried to man the gun after he’d popped the gunner. That guy rocks. You think he could see his little red dot from that distance in bright sunshine? Now he might be the best in the world ‘cos he proved it.Twice. But our fellas are just as hot. So trust me. You ain’t lit up, ‘cos the guys out there, they don’t NEED to know they’re gonna hit ya.”
Wheeler swallowed , hard. ”Fuck you, Mr Mayor. You think you’re the boss of this town, the guy in charge? Huh? King of the City? Well , don’t matter what the fuck you think you are, you been taken down, man. You’re a hostage , and for what? Supergirl? She’s dead dude. You traded yourself for nuthin’. Squat. A corpse.”
At the mention of her death, the Mayor’s demeanor suddenly took on a steely resolve. “Better not be son. Better not be.” He seemed to pause in thought a moment. “Hmmmn. ‘KING OF THE CITY’ – I kinda like that.” He turned towards his wife and gave her the most imperceptible of nods. She smiled back briefly, and nodded to indicate she, too, was ready.
Hudson turned to Clarke and Partridge “Get a sit-rep from all teams, now.”
They made the call and all teams started to report in.
“Watchdog 2’ have eyes on the bridge and confirm light as primary for ‘1, once the shootin’ starts, over.”
“Watchdog 4’ eyes on bridge and a partial on target BETA for ‘3, over.”
“’Trident’ team at bow anchor, in the water, awaiting ‘go’. Hurry it up guys, this water is freezing, over.”
“’Sceptre’ team on aft quarter deck, we do NOT repeat DO NOT have clear access to the deck housing. ‘Trident’ team be aware, we have multiple devs all over us, expect same at bow, over.”
“Copy ‘Sceptre’”.
“’Kite 1’, in position, over”
“’Kite 2’, ready for ‘go’,over.”
“’Shortstop’, standing by, over.”
“’Watchdog 6’, covering ‘Sceptre’, over.”
“’Watchdog 8’, eyes on stern team, over.”
“’Fatboy’ holding position, over.”
“ Jesus.” Wilson spoke up. “Four teams of 8, so 32 men plus chopper pilots and gunners, helmsmen on the assault boats, four or 5 here. You got , what 50 men to take down a woman and 2 bozos? You sure you brought enough guys?”
Hudson stopped and stared at him with eyes of ice, his face expressionless. “No, I’m not.”
He walked over and looked through the office window at the dark night, seeing the red light of the Sikorsky hovering over the ship that marked ‘Fatboy’ ’s location. “Shit! He’s supposed to be circling not hovering!” Clarkie , rip Lacelle a new asshole!”
“That’s not Lacelle, sir, he had appendicitis this afternoon, that’s some guy Anapolis sent with Sikorsky experience…Bennett, I think” Clarke said. He hated being called ‘Clarkie’.
“Who-ever, get him circling! CIRCLING!” Hudson barked. Needlessly he gestured with his finger in a circling motion. But it was too late. It had been noticed.
On the small, grainy screen, Willoughby started to come up the interior steps to the bridge. She stopped, listening to the ‘whup-whup-whup’ of the helicopter.
“Well, Mr Mayor. A genuine surprise. I didn’t think they’d hand you over, that’s why I asked for you. And the money too?” she said with disinterest. She looked at the suitcase, but all the while her head was cocked, listening. She seemed totally indifferent to the money, as Reynolds nodded in answer to her question. “Watch them, if it hasn’t started its about to” she told Wheeler , as she turned to head back down the steps.
“What d’ya mean?” Wheeler asked.
“That chopper is sitting on us to make a noise , hide something happening. I’m gonna check the cameras. Stay here.”
“Where’s Supergirl? We’ve met our side of the bargain, now release her!” Reynolds ordered. Willoughby looked at him with derision, and didn’t answer, but smirked instead. Reynolds looked at Eddy with a pained expression.
“What’s the getaway plan Doc?” Wheeler asked, agitated as he covered the Mayor and Eddy with a pistol. He licked his dry lips.
She smiled at him, with a smouldering look. “Don’t worry, lover…it’s all in hand,” he smiled as she puckered up an invisible kiss as she turned away from him, but with her back to him she rolled her eyes as she went to the control room.
“Lover, eh? So , er, tell me, we’re both men of the world… she any good in the sack?” asked Reynolds.
“Mind your own god-damned business.” Wheeler spat.
“Fair enough.” They sat then in silence, the awkward tension building between the three of them.
Outside, the big Sikorsky finally pulled further away and then started to circle, the noise now growing and fading alternately. As the drone died away Reynolds spoke again. “So…the Doc…she doing all you guys on board, or just you?”
Wheeler laughed. “Yeah right, like she’d be seen dead with Jarvis. She’s got class man, she’s gonna be happy with what I got. And what I got is $20 mill.”
“THAT’S IT!” Hudson grabbed the mike “ ’Pear Tree’ to ALL teams - we have 3 hostiles, we have a target Gamma somewhere in the interior. ’TRIDENT’ you are GO! ALL ‘Watchdog’’s stand by, the minute there are fireworks, I want that light out, ‘2! ’Sceptre’ get your asses to the deckhouse. Kite 1 and 2 hold, you are go in 60 seconds! ‘Shortstop’ stand by!” he was beaming. These moments were what Hudson lived for. “Good on you, Mr Mayor!” he beamed.
“Why?” Wilson asked.
“’Why’? He said ‘ all you guys on board’, plural and Target Beta just named Jarvis – on top of that the guy just said HE had $20mill. Not WE- either this Jarvis is already dead or they are gonna turn on him. It’s about the best we could hope for. I’d say we’re about 95% certain it’s just them two. In our business, in this situation, that’s about as good as you ever get.”
“’Pear Tree’, from ‘4, we still only have a partial shot, over.”
“Copy ‘4’ Have ‘3’ standby.” Partridge answered.
“’PEAR TREE’ , ‘PEAR TREE’ this is ‘WATCHDOG 2’ , I have the bomb IN THE LIGHT, REPEAT, EYES-ON OF BOMB IN THE LIGHT OVER!CANNOT TAKE THE LIGHT OUT, WE HAVE NO SHOT, NO SHOT, OVER!”
“Dammit!” Hudson declared in frustration. WHAT?” He barked angrily at Edwards who was waving for his attention as Clarke and Partridge started to relay orders.
“Sir…it could be nothing , but I’m picking up some background chatter just off the Mayor’s mike frequency. It ain’t police, coastguard, cab firm, nothing obvious. It aint an echo of our guys either. And its intermittent. There for a spell then nothing, then coming back in, then fading out. It’s just a few garbled phrases really…don’t make much sense.” Edwards said.
“It’s nothing, Edwards, just keep an eye on it.” Hudson said dismissively having bigger problems on his mind but the young tech grabbed his arm as he turned away.
“But sir…it sounds like US sir…it’s our kinda chatter…check-ins, sit reps. It sounds like there’s another op going down nearby, just off of our frequencies. Like it’s shadowing us. We’re codenamed ‘Mistral’, right? So if our op is ‘Mistral’, how come I keep hearing references to ‘Suzerain’, and someone called ‘Cow’ but they say it twice, ‘Cow Cow’ each time double like that. The only full clear phrase I’ve heard was ‘wait for go from ‘Cow Cow’.’
Hudson turned to look at Wilson, who suddenly looked decidedly shifty. “Ok Edwards. Keep an ear on it. Let me know next time you pick it up.” ‘Oh fuck’ Hudson thought bitterly as he stared at an impassive Wilson.
Back on board, Reynolds looked at Wheeler as he heard the helicopter return. He knew they had picked up the significance of the conversation as he had intended. He turned to Eddy. “Do you think he does, Eddy? I don’t think so.”
“I’m sure of it. A bright young man like him, he’s bound to, aren’t you? Yes, he knows” his wife said, looking at Wheeler intently.
“I don’t think he does.” Reynolds sighed.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Wheeler growled.
“Eddy’s pa was in the S.O.E. in World War 2.” the Mayor said.
“And I’m in the SFW. What the fuck are you talking about?” Wheeler snarled angrily, brandishing his pistol.
“S.O.E. - ‘Special Operations Executive’- ya know spies and stuff. Behind enemy lines.” Reynolds said.
“So?” Wheeler asked, his curiosity piqued.
“So, he taught her everything he knew, including the TWO most important things in life for ANY GUY to know. Ya know what they are?” Reynolds asked as Wheeler shook his head “Tell him Eddy” Reynolds sat back against the ship’s controls and folded his arms as he watched his wife lean towards Wheeler. He was smiling as he watched her get closer, calling Wheeler nearer with a beckoned hand as she looked right and left to see if they were being over heard and then began in a conspiratorial whisper -
“Well,” she looked around again “Number 1, IS ALWAYS RECOGNISE A DISTRACTION” She brought her knee viciously up into his genitals. Wheeler dropped the gun and clutched himself as his eyes watered with the force of the impact.
“UUUOOOOOO!” He gasped. His big frame was doubled up allowing the diminutive form of the Mayor’s wife to bend forward to whisper in his ear.
“And Number 2, it doesn’t matter how big you are, or how hard a man you think you are, any guy is only as tough as the blow he can take to his own testicles.”
“’Pear Tree’ from ‘Watchdog 2’, we have lost partial shot on Beta, but we believe hostile IS DOWN , repeat HOSTILE IS DOWN. Er…I’m not sure, but it looked like the Mayor’s wife took him out with one helluva blow to the nutsack and then a few martial arts moves, that may or may not have been Krav Maga, over.”
“Copy ‘2’” Partridge replayed the view from Watchdog 2’s camera. All men in the room ‘OOOOO’-ed and winced in unison as they saw the blow go in. The Mayor’s spyhole camera only had it partially but gave a good view of Eddy finishing Wheeler off in a flurry of martial arts moves that belied her age.
“Shit. That’s one for the Christmas party tape. I’d vote for him. Just to keep her the hell away from me. Jesus!” Clarke said softly.” She’s better than Fellini on Jones’ squad.”
Hudson turned to Wheeler. “She do Krav classes?” he said referring to the Isreali martial art.
Wilson nodded, his eyes glued to the screen. He seemed just as surprised as the others by her abilities.
The Mayor knelt beside Wheeler, who was bright red, wide eyed and shaking, his hands clamped firmly between his legs, his eyes watering, his jaw clamped tight. He felt sick with the pain. After the follow up blows Eddy had landed, he was on the verge of unconsciousness.
“What was it you said, son? I was the ‘King of the City’ and here I was taken down? Well now, I’d say you’ve been misinformed. You see, son, the King is never taken. Not even in chess”. Reynolds smiled as he picked up Wheeler’s gun.
“Tuh!'King'’!.” Eddy said with contempt. “You’re head is big enough already.”
“My codename is ‘Raj’, honey. “He smiled.” Or should I say ‘Penny’? Like in ‘Maharaja’ “ he grinned happily.
“’Trident’, get you’re asses on the bridge and secure ‘Penny’ and ‘Raj’, we have BETA TARGET immobilised and “- ‘probably weeping ‘ he thought but Hudson didn’t say it – “disarmed. Secure area. Remember , target Alpha MUST be taken alive, and we have one other known hostile, over.”
“Copy, ‘Pear Tree’ “ Jones voice crackled through the speakers.
Hudson moved over to where Technician First Class Edwards manned the Mayor’s camera and Eddy’s mike.
“Mrs Mayor, great job. Can you open any locked access to the wheelhouse, and raise the shutters, Lt Jones and his team are on their way, be with you in a few seconds. Just stay clear of the stairwell and watch our friend there. Nothing to worry about, help is on the way” Hudson reassured her through the mike.
Eddy touched her earpiece, disguised as one of her earrings. “Thank you young man, but I’m not worried. Don’t you mean ‘‘Penny’ great job?’” she smiled speaking down into her chest microphone.
Captain Hudson smiled. “Er…actually ma’am, your husband is ‘Penny’. You’re ‘Raj’. We kinda always had you pegged as the boss of the outfit…”
On the grainy screen from her husband’s jacket button camera, she beamed a huge smile.
“AAAAARRRGGGGHHHH!” the scream suddenly filled the comms room as one of the camera views started to shake and jerk violently, apparently a giant’s boot filling the screen.
“SIR!” Clarke said, pointing at the screen. “That’s ‘Watchdog 8’, sir!”
The camera steadied as the image slowly panned up the very shapely leg as ‘Watchdog 8’ called in.
“Sorry 'Pear Tree', she scared the shit out of me” as the voice spoke breathlessly, the picture swung up to take in a distorted , elongated female figure, caped, with her knuckles resting on her hips. The spotter’s microphone picked up her voice as she spoke, facing the camera.
“DIBBS” shouted an anonymous SEAL.
“Tell your boss, I got this. Hold position, I’m going on board” she said in clear, soft tones, before in an instant she disappeared, prompting more wild shots from ‘Watchdog 8’s head mounted camera as he swung his head to look after her, trying to keep her in view.
A second later she reappeared to stand before the camera. “Oh, and guys, just for the record…NO-ONE calls ‘dibbs’ on me…” she waved a pointed finger across the camera view, her face wore a stoney expression, “EVER…” the picture jerked up and down as the camera wearer nodded, and she left the threat hanging before she again disappeared.
Hudson snatched the mike angrily “’Pear Tree’ to all posts, I don’t know which of you assholes thought to crack funnies in the middle of an operation but if I find out who it was they’ll be painting bow numbers on ships back at Norfolk Roads, YOU GET ME!!!? Now stay sharp. ‘Trident 1’ where the hell are you, over?”
“She’s back in the game!” Partidge beamed, as he looked pointedly at Wilson, who said nothing.
On the bridge, in the wheelhouse, Jones’s men secured Wheeler’s hands and feet with plastic slide strips as Jones himself checked in.
“’Pear Tree’ from ‘Trident 1’, ’Penny’ and ‘Raj’ are safe and bridge secure. One hostile detained, no casualties. About to drop a deck, over.” Jones spoke into his mike, before addressing his team as he listened for the response. “Fellini, you stay with the Mayor and his wife.” He turned to face them – “Just stay low folks you’ll be fine. You two on me” he indicated the remaining members of his team.
“Copy ‘Trident’, good job. ‘Pear Tree’ out. ‘Pear Tree’ to ‘Kite 1’ and ’ 2’ get you’re asses in there, we have confirmed eyes-on of a bomb IN THE LIGHT, over and out. ‘Sceptre 1’ state position, over.”
In the control room on board ship, the Doctor switched from the bridge camera to the stern and let out a heavy sigh. She attached a small circular metallic disc to her temple – and disappeared.
“Pear Tree’, ’Sceptre 1’. We are at the aft deck housing, no sign of – wait, got movement at the-“
As Hudson and the communications unit watched the screens, a bizarre series of events unfolded, illuminated by the intermittent sweep of the lightship’s beam. For a brief instant the figure of a woman appeared in the doorway then vanished. Almost immediately ‘Sceptre 1’s camera shook violently and spun for a few seconds before a watery splash filled the view and it went black.
“’WATCHDOG 8’, SWITCH TO VL!” Partridge ordered urgently and an instant later the green hazy nightscope view from his camera changed to the darkness of the visible light spectrum, washed out to white by the lightship lamp every few seconds.
“’Sceptre 1’ IS DOWN AND IN THE WATER!” one of the Watchdog spotters called in. Thereafter the transmissions came thick and fast, in some cases simultaneously on the separately dedicated team channels.
“Sceptre 2’ behi-“-”Look out 3!”- “I got no shot!”- “What the fu”-“2’s down”-”4! At your 5 o’clo-“-”3 IS OVERBOARD”- “She’s disappeared!” “I can’t see-“ – “AAAAGGGHHH!”-“4’s down”-“FUCK”
There was a brief, erratic burst of gunfire from ‘Sceptre 4’ as he collapsed, the bullets spraying ineffectually up into the night sky but their sound muffled to a “BRRRRRRP!” by the silencer.
As Hudson and his men stared open mouthed at the screens that one by one either terminated or ended up filming a static view of the deck, silence filled the room. All could see the empty aft deck where just a moment ago the four members of the ‘Sceptre’ team had been. Two dark shapes that might be bodies were just about visible in the sweep of the light on ‘Watchdog 8’s camera. It had lasted 5 seconds.
“’Sceptre’ team down….” One of the stern sniper spotters called in a stunned voice. “It was like a fucking ghost…”
There was an instant of stunned silence in the Harbour Masters radio room before the navy personnel exploded into the activity they were trained for in such situations, checking in on existing teams and issuing orders to standby or be ready to go as appropriate, while Hudson barked more definitive orders.
“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!!!” Cried Hudson. “’PEAR TREE’ to ‘Shortstop’, GET IN THERE!!! We have guys in the water AFT at least 2 possibly more, out. ‘FATBOY’, get dockside, pick up the med team! ‘Trident’ hold position, something going down, standby! ‘Kite 1 and 2’ holding pattern ‘til we know what the hell is going on. ‘Pear Tree’, out.” he turned to Partridge. “John, bring that back up , go for the camera view from ‘Watchdog 8’, big picture and zoom in…I wanna see what the hell that was…”
Behind him, Wilson sat with his butt on the desk, one arm folded as he pushed in his cheeks with the other hand, pinching his face into a distended ‘O’ with his thumb and forefinger as he just repeated over and over, in shock “My God…she’s done it….my god, she’s actually done it….”
Partridge turned to his commander “Sir, shouldn’t we get ‘Kite 1’ and ‘2’ in there? Jones is on his own…”
“Not until we know what the hell we are up against. You don’t lose you’re army to fight a losing battle, John.” Hudson was aghast. Gradually, Wilson’s words reached him and he spun on the shadowy government man. “What do you mean ‘She’s actually done it’ – done what ? You knew about this? What the hell was that? “
Wilson pointed at the screen where Clarke was playing back the events on ‘Watchdog 8’s camera. “That, was the future of warfare, Captain Hudson.” he said.
They watched the events repeated. But it was still too quick to really see what had happened.
“Play it again Clarkie, half speed.” Hudson ordered. As it played back, Partridge directed standby orders to the remaining teams as a flurry of calls came in.
As they watched, the figure of the doctor appeared in the doorway aft, then blinked out of existence, to almost instantaneously appear beside and partially behind, Daniels as ‘Sceptre 1’. She seemed to strike him with a vicious kidney punch before grabbing him, tilting him off balance and tipping him overboard. As Sceptre 3 drew a bead on her, she disappeared again before blinking into being right in front of him but passed his gun barrel. He was struck off balance and then tilted over the taff rail into the dark water. She suddenly vanished and before ‘3 had even hit the water, ‘Sceptre 2’ was down, as a flurry of martial arts blows collapsed him to the deck. She then vanished and appeared just behind ’4’s right shoulder felling him with a kick to the back of his knee and a chop to his neck.
“FUCK…” Tom Lewis said in awe.
“You want to tell me what that is?” Hudson turned to Wilson.
“That, Captain, is what is going to make you and your men obsolete.” As Hudson turned back to marshal his team, Wilson took out his cell and unnoticed pressed ‘send’ on a pre written, drafted text message. It said simply “We are go. Cao Cao”.
Supergirl was hovering on the far side of the light from the aft deck, trying to work out how to disable it. She was a little at a loss. There were heat and pressure triggers in the bomb that would prevent her from using her vision to fry the connections and on top of that, the whole thing was packed with more slivers and shards of Kryptonite as a booby trap, to stop her tampering with it. She could see the lead shielding screening the lethal parcels and sighed in frustration. The only thing that she saw as a positive was that it seemed to be remotely triggered. She needed to find the remote. It was only the final scream from ‘Sceptre 4’ that alerted her to the action at the stern, by which time the doctor had disappeared. She swooped down on the aftermath, checking on the guys on deck quickly. They were both alive but out cold. She placed them in the recovery position, then stood looking around with concern. As the ‘Shortstop’ team drew up in assault zodiacs, she realised there were others in the water, swooping down to pull the two men out she dropped them off on the boats. She told the team leader Craig of the two other team members on deck, then she headed into the ship to locate the remote detonator and settle a score with Doctor Willoughby as Craig reported in.
Jones’ team froze in position, at the base of the internal bridge steps with the control room to their right and other doors leading off the corridor. The bridge stairs emerged in a little recess approximately halfway along the corridor of the deck below. His two men, Kaplan and Porucco, exchanged nervous glances as one covered the space behind them, the other the control room door which was slightly ajar, while Jones covered the corridor ahead, leading to the stern doorway. The muffled sound of silenced gunfire outside only heightened their nerves, whilst ‘Pear Tree’ continually stating ‘stand by’ wasn’t helping their calm either. When Jarvis appeared from the open steps in the recess that lead to the deck below, Kaplan had put 9 bullets in his chest before he had even identified the target.
“BRRRRRRRP! ” The Heckler and Koch rounds hit home in a tight grouping at close range that knocked Jarvis back onto the deck in the little ladder recess, where he lay still.
“’Trident’ to ‘Pear Tree’, second hostile down, over.” whispered Jones. “Request status of ‘Sceptre’ team, over.” Long moments passed with no answer besides “Copy ‘Trident’. Standby.”
The brief sight of a woman appeared at the end of the corridor through the open stern door. Jones levelled his weapon instantly but she just seemed to wink out of existence. Jones never knew what hit him as he was grabbed from behind and his head smashed into the steel corridor wall. As Kaplan and Porucco both spun around in a half turn, Willoughby materialised behind them, knuckle punching them rapidly twice in the lower spine below their lightweight flak armour that caused both men to collapse. She then, in normal speed retrieved Jones curious weapon, looked at it briefly and then fired the first two shots one at a time into the two downed SEALs. She was slightly surprised when just darts hit them in the upper body, with a ‘phhhht’ noise, Porucco at the throat and Kaplan in the shoulder above his body armour. She had expected bullets. She was going to fire a burst but disappointed with the single shot weapon, she just looked down at it in disgust and tossed it back onto Jones’ unconscious body. As she stood up and headed toward the front of the ship, a red and blue figure appeared in the doorway from the stern.
The Doctor froze as she saw her enemy. “Well, well, well. Not so dead afterall, are you?” she said, hiding her surprise rather well under the circumstances.
As the Doctor addressed her, Supergirl quickly scanned her for the detonator. She did not have it. Neither did she seem to have the Kryptonite glove. Good. She deserved a break. She could see though, that the Doctor was wearing the belt and had a curious metal disk at her right temple. The belt was quite thick and chunky at the buckle and as she used her x –ray vision, the details of the mechanism were revealed.
The entire waistband was quite thick and compartmentalised with thin streams of mercury flowing between the sections in channels only microns thick. The compartments were packed with a myriad of different materials and components, each with different properties. Some were magnetised, some were supercooled, some seemed to be partially melted to provide a fuel source for other elements that were to be superheated. Some were metals , some were ionised gas particles, some liquids. The belt buckle itself seemed to house neurological receptors that she assumed linked the wearer to the metal disk at the Doctors temple. So it was thought controlled then, she reasoned. There seemed to be some kind of layered dish-like element to the buckle that she thought might be a projection device to create the quantum bubble around the user. Almost every spare inch of the belt housed some element of micro circuitry, whose purpose she could only guess at. It was a fantastic piece of scientific engineering and reluctantly she had to admit, to herself, that she didn’t really have a clue as to how it actually worked. In her defence, it was the culmination of 90 years of human thinking , and she had only studied it for 3 and a half seconds.
“It’s over Doctor Willoughby. There are government forces ready to sto-“ Supergirl stopped as she saw the bodies of Jones’ team littering the little corridor. She scanned them with concern, noting too that the strange gun lying on Jones seemed to be housing a Kryptonite dart. Two were drugged with the darts protruding from them, but the third seemed to have been beaten unconscious. Jarvis’ body lay in the little recess, out of sight and unnoticed by her.
“Government forces like these?” Willoughby asked innocently. “Ya know, I’m kinda glad you are alive to see this, just so you realise how badly you fucked up. You could’ve stopped me an hour ago, but oh, no, you had to go and look in those rooms and boxes. Showing off again. Well now you’re-”
Before Willoughby finished, Supergirl rushed her with her super speed, slightly slowed now by her wounded thigh and the shards still in her body. She was hoping to catch her off guard. But the Doctor was ready for her and disappeared as she reached her, leaving the Kryptonian confused as she vanished before her eyes. She appeared behind Supergirl at the far end of the corridor, her voice attracting the young girl’s attention. Supergirl spun around at the sound.
“Excuse me for just- one- second…” Willoughby said, as she again blinked out of existence. This time when she reappeared a few seconds later she stood immediately behind Supergirl and she was now wearing the Kryptonite glove. She had retrieved it from her cabin downstairs in mere seconds.
“AAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHH!” the Girl of Steel screamed as the Doctor landed a vicious knuckle punch to her right kidney, aggravating the tiny shard still buried in her ribs. She sagged and dropped to one knee as the doctor planted a foot on her butt and pushed her flat. The exposure from the fine powder on the glove was weakening her, as just being in close proximity to the gauntlet was having a similar effect to the direct exposure she had endured earlier, with the larger meteorite. This was much less, as the particles were so small, but it was still not good for her. She started to rise only for the Doctor to kick her arms away sprawling her flat again. That was a measure of how weak being this close was making her , she realised, as ordinarily a kick like that would have had no impact on her body.
Willoughby sprung into being at the far end of the corridor, forcing Supergirl to look at her through her cascading hair as she again slowly struggled to her feet.
“Well this is fun. But much as I’d like to beat up on you all night I got a city to poison. Now …where did I put that remote detonator? Ah yes, I remember. Catch me if you can!” the Doctor cried as she vanished through the doorway.
Suddenly her words hit home to Kara – the remote detonator. She realised that she too, now knew where it was also – it was the supposed ‘TV’ remote she had seen on the table in the first room that she had scanned when she came on board. It was obvious now – why have a remote TV control in a room with no TV? Indeed, on board a ship with no TV. If only she had examined it more closely. But at the time she was looking for the bomb, not the detonator. But it was stupid of her not to realise. That room was down the far end of the corridor. She shot forward as fast as she was able, bursting into the room at the far end of the gangway – and walking straight into the gauntleted fist of the Doctor as she slammed it onto her jaw. Supergirl staggered back falling against the door and accidentally closing it with her body. She recovered quickly, shrugging off the burning pain where the glove had struck her and lunging instead for the remote detonator on the table. As she reached for it her hand closed on empty air as the Doctor snatched it up out of her reach, delivering a cruel back handed blow to Kara’s face in the process.
“Be seeing you!” the Doctor almost sang as she stopped at the doorway. But then Supergirl realised something – as the Doctor started to open the door the Last Daughter of Krypton accelerated and slammed into it with her body weight, shutting it and cannoning her body into the Doctor in the process, knocking her backwards. But the proximity to the glove was debilitating her, the green dust rubbing off painfully with every contact, floating invisibly in the air and burning her lungs as she accidentally inhaled it. Supergirl had realised however that the Doctor could only open the door in normal time. Small detached items like the control for the bomb she was able to snatch up , to encompass within her bubble of distorted reality. But the door, being part of the larger ship could not be manipulated in the same way. She had to rematerialize in order to open it and when she did, Supergirl could strike. But the glove and her own wounds also made Kara vulnerable. It was a stalemate. But a stalemate the Doctor intended to break. At lightning speed she swooped in and out, materialising to land one devastating blow after another, then disappearing again and moving off before Supergirl could strike back. Again and again she repeated the process , moving off and then re-materialising in an attempt to draw the Kryptonian away from her sentry position blocking the door. Each time Kara charged at her, the Doctor would simply wink out of existence, but the Maid of Might was always able to use her own speed to slam the door shut before the Doctor could escape. Though each time was weakening Kara a little more. Finally the Doctor tired of the game.
“I wanted to set this off –“ she hefted the control”- up on deck, to see the explosion to feel the first kiss of those deadly little isotopes…but you even spoil that for me” she disappeared as Supergirl again lunged at her. Again and again she tried but the Doctor was too quick. But the attempts were becoming ever slower as Kara weakened. It was not lost on the Doctor.
“Oh, you getting tired?” She disappeared again as Supergirl charged and missed, propping herself on the empty table as she turned in tired exhaustion to where the Doctor stood smiling, taunting her by waving the control in one hand. She was no longer trying for the door now, just toying with her victim, appearing and delivering the odd blow as and when she felt like it, with Supergirl reeling in agony after each strike. Ten, fifteen, maybe twenty times Supergirl tried and failed to corner her, each time suffering a crippling blow, making her ever weaker. She was able to land perhaps only one in five of her own attempts, her powers weakened by the sliver in her shoulder, the gauntlet itself and the exposure to and contact with the Kryptonite glove. The Doctor was an experienced martial art practitioner and with her quick reflexes made quicker by the belt she was able to either parry or avoid the blows completely, whilst landing devastatingly powerful strikes of her own. Finally, the doctor appeared and landed three vicious gut punches that winded her completely, causing Supergirl to drop to her knees. She feebly struck out with a blow of her own as she half rose, but the Doctor had long gone, appearing behind the Kryptonian to strike her cruelly in the centre of her back.
“AAAAAGGGGHHHH!” Kara screamed as she sank to her knees, again trying to lash out but receiving an answering blow from the Doctor that spun her away to land on all fours. She looked up tearfully, a thin trickle of blood flowing from the corner of her mouth as she stared through the golden curtain of her hair, formed by her lowered head. Supergirl could taste something strange, something thick and slightly salty in her mouth. She licked her lips, frowning and bewildered as to her surprise she realised it was her own blood. The sickly taste was mixed with the sour bitterness of the realisation that now, in the most important battle of her young life, with millions of innocent lives at stake, she was losing. And losing badly. She needed to get her hands on the remote detonator, but all she could do was look on impotently as the Doctor forever kept it from her reach. There was nothing she could do to get it and no way she could see of stopping the Doctor, as Willoughby held it aloft one final time.
“Here you go kiddo! This city will rue the day you ever set foot in it. Your name will be forever remembered as the one who let the people down, the girl who let half the city die whilst all she could do was look on.” Supergirl sped over to the Doctor one last time, putting all her efforts into her astonishing speed. But she clutched empty air as the Doctor disappeared. She paid the price for her heroism suffering a brutal stomach punch that had her collapsing in agony, clutching her body where the Kryptonite glove had hit home.
“AAAAGGGGGHHHH!” she cried as she sank to the floor once more.
“You fail again , golden girl” the Doctor said as she moved her thumb to press the button to detonate the bomb.